Page 68 of High

My stomach soured. “Qué? Did you see him in person?” I repeated myself quickly in Spanish and he nodded. “Como se veía?”

The boy described a man who looked just like my papá. “Es de Baja.”

Thio growled. “So a rich man from Baja, who called himself Jefe Méndez, came and paid you boys money?” I translated because it seemed like Thio was so pissed off he had already forgotten they didn’t speak any English.

Every single one of their heads bobbled and I felt sick.

“Did he know I would be here?” I asked, but I wasn’t really talking to Thio so much as thinking out loud.

“He had to have gotten word we were traveling together. Maybe one of our growers was paid to tell him when I was coming. Mierda.”

There were bodies everywhere, none of them very old. Several of our men were injured when I turned to survey the damage. Héctor gave me a friendly, relieved wave as he bent to scoop someone up from the ground and help them to a chair at a nearby fire. “I think Papá knew I was here. I… do you know what I think?”

“What, hermoso?” Thio turned toward me and cocked his head.

“I think he decided he’d rather have a dead son than a son making him look bad. Either I was taken and he looks weak, or I’m a traitor. Either way, he’s decided to kill me.”

Thio was very quiet, and then reached out and dragged me close. “I think you’re probably right. I honestly didn’t believe he would ever do anything like this where you might get hurt. Not like this, with untrained, desperate men who just wanted a nice payday.”

“I… I still love Papá,” I said, and my voice cracked. I cleared my throat. “But if it’s him or us, Thio? If it’s him or Tía Rosa or Arlo or, fuck, even Preciosa and Coco? Then I hope he’s the one who dies. He could have just let me go, but no. He knew I was safe with you.” I buried my face against his chest and he cupped the back of my head, holding me there. It was insane that I felt safer in his arms after a gunfight than I had locked away in my room for four years. “He knew I was in the place where I would be happiest. I don’t think he’s worried about my safety anymore.”

He rested his cheek on my forehead. “Neither do I. He may not have known you were here. I’m predictable with these trips, and this has shown, perhaps, too predictable.” But he sounded like he was trying to keep my spirits up. We both knew better.

“I love you, Thio. I want you safe.”

“What does that mean, mi amor?”

I shrugged because I honestly didn’t know, but I knew if Papá and Thio were ever shooting at each other across a room again, the way they had been when I’d been rescued from Pedregal, next time I wouldn’t tell Thio to hold his fire. Next time I’d tell him to do what he needed to do to keep us safe.